Revenge
by viktriap
Summary: Jack is active again and he doesn't like to see his Sam being happy.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: I feel I was quite quick this time. I hope you enjoy this. As you will notice, in a way it's a sequel to Down under. Read and review, please!!! (There might be more mistakes than usually, but I wanted to upload it as soon as possible, sorry!)

Chapter one

Agent John Grant woke up at exactly 6 o'clock in the morning just like every other day. He didn't need an alarm-clock to do so. His mother had often told him that he'd had a special inner clock.

However this day was a little bit different: his first day back at work. He has been on a sick-leave for fifteen days from which ten days he spent in the hospital. These fifteen days weren't too many in the opinion of Sam, Bailey or Grace, but John meant that they were entirely too many.

Especially his stay in hospital nerved him, but he understood the importance of it. Even if he didn't want to admit he wasn't well enough to manage on his own. Especially in the first few days when even opening his eyes had been a complicated task.

He got up and went to the bathroom.

He still had bandage on the wound considering that the stitches would be taken out only next week. He couldn't deny that he still had pain, particularly when he made some abrupt movement. Not the wound was that hurt, it was a deeper pain as if his inner organs had been replaced or so. He felt some dull pain all the time, but if he moved quickly it shot in his side so sharply that it left him breathless.

But it wasn't that bad! He was well acquainted with pain and he was good at hiding it.

He took a shower, cautiously not to water his bandage, shaved and dressed up, then for a few minutes he studied himself in the mirror. He lost weight but not that much, and it wasn't really obvious.

Of course the doctor told him, that after an injury like his he can't work at least for two month and he knew that he couldn't do field-work, though working in the office he could manage. He had told Bailey that he would go in, even if they wouldn't pay him for it, and he meant it. He was fed up with being at home alone the whole day.

And as Bailey was in a very good mood at the moment – he went so far that he actually thanked John for "betraying" his feelings to Sam! - he agreed. He had only one reservation: John would immediately tell if he couldn't stand the strain. John had bowed enthusiastically, but of course he had no intention to do so. But it doesn't matter because he would manage!

The only good thing in this whole situation was that he could tell Sam the truth about Bailey. He had known it for a while - not as if Bailey had told him! He would probably never do it, but John wasn't blind and though nobody had thought about him (not even his closest workmates) he could be quite sensitive... sometimes.

Yes, nobody would have guessed that exactly John Grant would be the person who realizes such a thing. That's the consequence if you don't have people around you who you can call real friends. Not as if they didn't want to be his friends but he couldn't... open up. It was bad habit, he knew, but every time he tried to speak about himself he felt as if there was a lump in his throat.

He realized of course that this wasn't quite normal. He should have get over this behavior a long time ago: he wasn't a child anymore. But knowing about something didn't mean to be able to change it. John wasn't a psychologist like Sam, but he didn't need to be one to realize what his problem was... And he could face it, he could control his feelings, he just didn't want to talk about it. He had the right to do so, didn't he? Or at least, that was what he tried to make himself believe...

He didn't use his own car, because he found driving difficult with his waist still hurting. So he used the public transport instead which meant of course arriving later than usual.

When he stepped out from the elevator, the everyday busy life of the headquater welcomed him. And Grace.

"Hey! Back on your feet already?" she welcomed him.

"Hi. Yes, I couldn't stand being without you any longer!"

"Charming as always" she joked. But then her face became serious and studied him with a doctor's eyes. "You really scared us, you know."

"I'm sorry. I assure you it wasn't my intention to let me shot."

"Yeah, I guessed that much. Bailey told that you would come in already. Isn't this too early? You look tired."

"Yes, I'm tired of being at home. I'm okay Grace, really! Is there anything new here?" He obviously tried to change the subject, and Grace was tactful enough to notice it.

"Not really. The same old shit: mad serial killers all around the country..."

"If it's so then I'm up for reading through some files!"

"But take it easy, John!" the coroner warned him.

"Don't worry, mum!" Grace gave him a huge smile. "I'm quite sure that nobody's died on reading till now!"

As he walked to his desk he felt her eyes on his back, so John forced himself to walk lightly and not to limp at all.

John's corner in the office consisted of a desk and two file cabinets. And they both were quite full at the moment. The VCTF team worked on 20-25 cases at once. In some of them they only gave advice how to go on with the investigation, or how to interrogate the perpetrator to get a confession. There were other cases where they led or made the whole investigation by themselves. And then he didn't count the "dead" cases. These were the ones where they didn't have any result in more than a year.

Now, John opened one of the cabinets and studied the good number of file folders. After a short hesitation he took out the thickest folder. It was the Seattle-case. He always named the cases after a city – usually after the city where the murders were committed. In this case the name wasn't correct, because they found bodies all over the country, but the first one was found in Seattle.

He sat down and opened the folder. This was an abridged version of the whole file, but it still included over two-hundred pages. There were the reports of the local police officers, the confessions of the witnesses (there weren't too much of them, to be honest!), photos of the scenes and characteristics of the victims.

The victims were all young males between fifteen and twenty. They were all waifs, some of them even drug-addicts or prostitutes. They were easy targets, who nobody missed.

John took out one of the photos. It was taken of the third victim in Washington, and wasn't a nice picture. The young man was nineteen but in his death he looked not older than fourteen. His body was naked and badly beaten, there were bruises all over it. He was beaten so badly that in a place one broken rib pierced through the skin on his chest. However, for some reason, there wasn't a single injury on his face.

After he had studied the photo for a few seconds he put it back and took out his own notes. These were only thoughts he got after reading through the file, he didn't write his report yet. In most cases they all got the files and everybody wrote his or her own report which Bailey read and then summarized.

On the top of the notes stood: **_organized offender_**. **_White male. He must travel a lot. Truck-driver?_** Then he crossed it – and wrote: **_no, he has a more qualified job. Some kind of agent? Married. _**

_**The murder used a baseball-cub. **_

These were only fragments but they helped him a lot. Usually. He wasn't a natural profiler like Sam who could read the minds of criminals. However he learned a lot and could read from the evidences. _I should read the whole stuff again._ But first he wrote down another thought: **_Ask for conferences in town!_**

For the next few hours he buried himself in the pages of a sick story.

Sam arrived at half past eight, because she wanted to escort Chloe to school as it was the first day after the spring holiday. In the last days she felt as if she had been reborn. In one simple word she was happy. Why didn't they try this earlier? As Chloe told her so often: adults can be so complicated!

She enjoyed being with Bailey very much, and they spent a lot of time together. Chloe accepted it quite easily that their relationship changed. Especially, after they had spent a whole Saturday in the zoo that she admired.

And yes, they dated almost every day. They went to dinner, to cinema, to theatre and to Sam's surprise to dance. To tell the truth Bailey wasn't such a great dancer but he tried and they laughed so much that evening! And something else and more important happened that evening as well...

She had to smile when she thought about that sweet night.

"Another adventurous night with our fearsome boss?"

It was Grace, of course. She was the first person who noticed the change. Nathan suspected it, but George wouldn't recognize it, if he hadn't seen Sam and Bailey kissing in the elevator.

"Not this time."

"What a pity!"

"I have to agree on that. But Frances was in town yesterday."

"You don't want to tell her yet?"

"I don't know. It's Bailey's choice."

"By the way, John is here."

Sam frowned.

"I hoped, Bailey could convince him to stay at home at least another weak."

"I see, you still don't know him enough."

"I guess you're right..." she answered thoughtfully.

"Anyhow" shrugged Grace. "I have to go now. Bailey wants my report of the Vermont case today."

"All right. I'll go and visit the boys, then."

She walked in the office and glimpsed John at his desk. He seemed to be busy with his files, and when Sam greeted him, he only hemmed something under his nose, so she targeted Bailey's door instead.

"Good morning!"

"Hi!"

She bent over the desk and kissed him on the cheek which of course didn't satisfied Bailey. He pulled her closer and they kissed quite passionately.

"Huh" sighed Sam, after she had her breath again. "You can make even a Monday morning exciting."

"It's just because you make me inventive!"

She smiled. She wasn't a teenager anymore but she enjoyed his compliments and after those long years she felt as a real woman again. The last time she felt something like this, was with Tom... and it was definitely too long ago.

"Is something new?" she asked after she came back to earth.

"Oh, just this bureaucratic shit. Sometimes I hate being the boss here."

"You are good liar, dear. I know you enjoy it, to regiment us around and everything."

"Yes, I almost forget that part. Then maybe I should order you to plan next year's budget."

"I think then this whole institute would collapse to ruins" she answered laughing.

The phone rang and Bailey pointed at it.

"You see, this is one point I hate. Always in the worst moment." But he answered it anyway. "Malone."

The smile instantly vanished from his face. He quietly listened for a few minutes.

"I see." And then. "Yes, tell them that we're coming and not to touch anything." Another short pause. "Thank you."

He hang up and Sam suddenly had a very nasty feeling in her stomach. Something was wrong and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what. When Bailey looked her in the eyes she didn't even need to ask.

"It's Jack."

Malone nodded. "He killed a woman in New Jersey."

"Jersey? It is out of his territory."

Bailey shrugged.

"He left a message and a rose. It's definitely him. The scene is intact, I want our own investigators there."

"When do we leave?"

"In an hour. I'll tell the others, you can prepare for the journey."

She nodded as if she were in a trans. _Why now, when everything was so perfect? _She could almost forget that a mad man is after her, she started to believe that she could have a normal life. But no, Jack has to poison everything...

Bailey met the others in the command center and told them the news briefly. He knew that Jack wasn't just Sam's business, they all wanted to catch him more than any other murderer.

"Grace, I want you to come with us. George, you stay and organize everything from here. John..."

"I'll go with you."

"Like hell! You don't have your license back!"

"I won't go on field, but you'll need somebody at the PD. And we will have a doctor with us!" he smiled innocently.

Bailey sighed.

"Why do I have the feeling that I can't hold you back?"

"Maybe because you have known me for a long time?"

"Too long, I guess... All right, but you stay in, whatever happens."

"Sure."

"Don't try to bugger me around!" Bailey warned the younger man.

"Would I ever?"

"Don't make me answer this question!"

But it was good to have John back, so this one time Bailey passed by everything.

AN2: Does anybody know why counts FFnet less words than Word?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything, of course.

Author's note: That will be a little be longer than usual. First: I want to thank you for reading this story and for the reviews. Second: In the next chapters some scenes from John's past will be revealed. This is of course only my version of it and there might be some inconsistensy with the series. However I don't think they made it ever clear what happened with John. But I haven't seen all the episodes. This story is in a way a try-out for me, because in my original story the main character is a young woman who was abused by her father - some scenes come from that story - so I'm open for every critic. Of course that story is written in my native language so it is a bit more neat (at least I hope so!) And a third note: I'm very happy because Nip/Tuck is at last aired in Hungary, I've only seen the first episode, but all I can say is: Wow!

And now on to the story! Read and enjoy. (And review, please...)

Chapter 2

"I'm really sorry, sir, but we have only one vacant room. However we can put in two extra beds for you" said the receptionist, while Bailey groaned loudly. It was a great day!

First they arrived two hours later than planned because of the terrible weather conditions. Because of these same conditions the crime scene was almost useless. They hurried there from the airport but the massive rain washed away almost everything. It seemed even the weather was on Jack's side! Of course Bailey was quite irritated by the time they arrived at the hotel. And now this. Suddenly he felt a gently touch on his shoulder.

"I think it'll be okay!" Sam whispered in his ear. "This is the closest hotel to the PD and they have internet in every room. Maybe there will be another room in the near future" she told louder so that the receptionist could hear it as well.

The young man seemed relieved immediately.

"Yes, m'am. Of course. You know there is a conference in town for internists right now, but it's ending tomorrow. I can give you another room tomorrow evening."

"All right, then. We'll take it" said Bailey gruffly. "And we need two spare beds. And something for dinner."

"Yes, of course, sir. Here's our menu, you can study it until I make your room ready."

"Thanks."

Bailey still felt Sam's hand on his shoulder, and though he was still far from relaxed he felt some of his irritation fading away.

The hotel had a huge hall with comfortable lounge-chairs. John was sitting in one of them, and Bailey now joined him. The younger agent looked tired, but it was natural after spending two hours on the plane and other three on the crime scene in the rain. Bailey of course didn't want him to stay there but they had no other choice after all the local detectives were called to a robbery afoot.

"Are you all right?" asked Sam outrunning Bailey with a second.

"Yes, I'm fine." And he really held on when they were on the scene. Bailey felt that maybe he was a little bit overprotective.

"Where's Grace?"

"She's calling home."

"Okay, the room is ready soon, but I'm afraid we have to stay all in the same room."

John smiled at him.

"I'm sure you counted on something else. Or somebody..."

"Don't be childish! We have work to do!" But he smiled as well, and had to admit to himself that he wanted to spend the night with Sam and without a chaperone, not to mention two. He sighed, and opened the menu.

"So, what would you like for dinner?"

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Their room was ready in fifteen minutes and by the time the receptionist gave them the key Grace had finished her phone-call and joined them. John, on his part, would have liked to stay in the hall, because walking didn't seem to be a tempting option.

However when the others rose he followed them without a frown. He did harder things when he was a child. He would never forget that box-match, for example. How old was he? About fifteen, and he was a member of the high-school's box-team. And he stood six rounds with a broken left hand. This is nothing compared to that. He smiled to himself (however there was really nothing to smile about): in the end he lost, of course, because he was occupied with his hand so much that he got in a left hook. His father wasn't pleased with the result and naturally it never occurred to him that he was the one who broke his son's hand!

But this was past, and now he had other things to worry about. For example avoid Grace's perceptive eyes. He appreciated her worry of course, because it meant that she liked him, just like the others, but it still nerved him. He wasn't made of glass, for goodness' sake!

When Bailey opened the door, it turned out that the room wasn't that bad at all. The stuff conjured a panel that cut the room in two, so they could sleep separated, almost as if they had two rooms.

"See?" told Sam to Bailey. "It's quite okay, isn't it?"

"You are right!" sighed their boss yielding. "I shouldn't be so rude to the receptionist! That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

It was astonishing how well the two get on. John was glad to see them together as a couple. To be honest he had been a little bit worried that he might have misinterpreted Bailey's signs, and that his interference would only make trouble or worse... But fortunately everything turned out perfect.

In a few minutes they packed out everything they needed: from the files to the notebook, and then gathered around the small coffee table.

"So, what do you think?" asked Bailey.

"To tell the truth, I'm quite at a loss. It's definitely Jack but still everything is so strange. Why here and why now?"

"Does he need a reason?" asked Grace bitterly.

"Yes, he does... He plans everything, and I think for some reason he wanted us here. We just don't know why..."

"And it worries me a lot" put in Bailey.

"You don't have to tell me" smiled Sam sadly.

"Did you recognize how similar the victim was to you?" asked John suddenly looking at Sam and she nodded.

"But so far he killed people who were connected to me, in one way or another and not _me_, if you know what I mean."

"You might have infuriated him with something" suggested Grace.

Sam shrugged.

"Maybe you haven't paid enough attention to him lately. We haven't worked on his case for about two months or so" said Bailey.

Sam was studying the photos they had taken on scene.

"Do you see anything?"

She shook her head. "Except the fact that John mentioned: the figure, the blond hair, her face... She has a definite resemblance to me, but nothing else. It could be a simple robbery."

"If it weren't for the rose and the message."

"I didn't forget you, Samantha" quoted John.

"As if _I _could forget this bastard!... Maybe you are right, Bailey. Maybe he just wanted our full attention again. But I'm sure that he is here and he's watching us."

They talked a little more about the case until their dinner arrived, when everybody went quiet. John just fumbled in his food, he didn't feel like eating at all. He felt rather dizzy and his wound was throbbing. After a few minutes he stood up.

"I'll take a shower."

On the way he took out some clothes from his bag and a small bottle. Inside the bathroom he opened the bottle of painkillers that the doctor prescribed him. Until now he didn't take any but now he guessed it was time for it. He has to be at his full strength tomorrow and to that he would need a good night sleep.

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"Do you think he's fine?" asked Sam after John hadn't come out of the bathroom for twenty minutes.

"Hmm?" Bailey was buried in the file again and obviously he didn't recognize everything. Sam on the other hand saw how little John ate and how pale and quiet he was during the evening.

"John."

"Do you think that something wrong? Should I go after him?" asked Bailey worriedly.

"No, no!" she protested quickly. She knew that John would be terribly angry if they started to mother him.

"I knew I shouldn't have let him come with us!"

"Maybe. But I don't think you could have talked him out of it."

In that moment the aforementioned person came out of the bathroom, and Sam quickly suppressed the question on her tongue, and gladly saw that Bailey did the same. John seemed to be refreshed. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

"Didn't you want to go to bed?" asked Grace waving at his dressing.

"I want, but do you think I would sleep in pants when you are in the room?"

"I wouldn't mind at all..." she smiled lopsidedly.

"I didn't even hear that!" he answered with feigned indignation. "From a married woman..."

With that he headed for his bed.

"I think we should go to bed as well. Tomorrow we start with the questioning of the neighbors." Suggested Bailey, and the others agreed enthusiastically. It was a long day for everyone.

--------------------------

It was about 1 am and Sam still didn't sleep. She was listening to Bailey's steady breathing and was thinking about the problem at hand. Jack. Again and again. Why can't she get rid of him? Yes, of course hiding would be a solution, it had been for a while, but she had to admit (at least to herself) that she was much happier now. He had a new family, had a purpose to live and had Bailey. And even now she felt optimistic: she new that some day they would catch Jack. But still... so many death...

She was staring in the darkness of the room when she heard noises from the other side of the room. She could easily identify the source of it as John. She became more attentive. John was obviously talking in his sleep. She couldn't make out the words and it wasn't loud enough to wake the others up but he definitely didn't have a composed sleep.

Sam got up and tiptoed around the bed. She didn't want to disturb him, she just wanted to be sure that he was okay. John was tossing and turning, the blanket almost fell from the bed and then he suddenly jerked awake. He sat up in the bed with wide eyes, gasping for air. Sam froze in her movement. When John saw her, his eyes got even wider, then got out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.

For a good moment Sam had no idea what she should do. Then she walked to the closed door and quietly knocked.

"John?" she whispered.

There was no answer, still she opened the door and slipped in.

"Are you sick? Need you help?" she asked.

He shook his head.

John was standing at the wash-basin. He had washed his face but was still rather pale.

"Does your wound hurt?"

Again a shake of his head.

"You had a nightmare." It wasn't a question, she was well acquaintanced with nightmares and the situation couldn't be clearer.

John didn't answer and didn't look at her.

"It's normal, you know. Being shot is quite a trauma. And you almost died..."

It started to be nerving that John didn't say a word. He didn't even moved.

"John, you should talk about it. They would ask you about it anyway before you get back your full license and maybe it's better if you start with somebody you know."

John straightened and made a vague movement as if he wanted to flee from the room. But Sam stood in the doorway so there was no way out for him.

"You don't understand." He said lastly.

"Then explain."

He sighed.

"I have no problem with what had happened." Sam looked at him skeptically but this time he didn't react to that. "I'm not scared of being hurt, I never was. Yes, the wound hurts but it's not that bad and I won't be frightened of dark tunnels, either. This whole shooting... maybe you don't believe me, but it didn't traumatize me at all. It happened to me before, you know."

Sam got a little bit confused, she was quite sure that she recognized the problem, but John clearly talked absolutely calm about the incident.

"Then why...?"

"I don't have nightmares about the shooting."

Of course it occurred to her that he didn't say: _I don't have nightmares._

"And before you ask, I don't want to talk about this. I assure you I can handle it... I've done it for a while..."

There was this wall again that Sam had experienced before. So she decided to approach it from a different direction.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

John hesitated but then nodded.

"When we are back in Atlanta the Bureau will ask you to go to a session. You will be able to chose a therapist. Could it be me?"

John was obviously surprised and taken aback. There was a long silence and Sam was sure that he would say no, and she already started to draft her arguments. But instead of arguing John asked:

"What do you want to achieve with this?"

"I'll be straight" John looked at her suspiciously but didn't say a word. "I want you to talk about your nightmares."

"I told you it has nothing to do with this... incident and it doesn't influence my work. Or have you ever noticed something?"

"How long have you had those dreams then?" asked Sam a little bit stunned.

John opened his mouth and then closed it, it clearly occurred to him what he had just said.

"They aren't common."

"I'm a profiler. My job is to recognize if somebody lies, so don't even try, John Grant!"

If one could kill with a glare Sam would have collapsed dead on the spot.

"Why do you want to delve in my private life?"

"I just want to help you! I see that something bothers you deeply and I can't close my eyes and walk away. I thought we were friends!"

His face softened a bit.

"Friends help each-other, don't they?" continued Sam. "You, for example, told me how Bailey feels and it really helped me a lot! You can't imagine how happy you made me with that!"

The young agent smiled wanly.

"You won. I'll chose you." told he at last.

"And you'll talk."

"We'll see..."

"Believe me, it's easy if you start..."

"But not for me" he murmured. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

Sam smiled at him. "Yes, of course."

"Good night then."

"Good night."

They both went back to their beds and lied down. For exactly sixteen minutes. That was when the telephone rang and a detective reported that there was another murder.

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	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I don't want to say much this time. I apologize again for the long wait, but it seems I'm a slow writer! Thanks everybody for reviewing, please do it again, becaus it really encourages me to write more. For everybody who is interested: I uploaded my Charmed story as well, check it out if you feel like it! Thanks again and here with: read and enjoy!

Chapter 3.

The rain stopped. At least that meant some improvement, but it was still rather cold. The dead body lied in an abandoned alley behind some block of flats.

"Shit!"

They were standing over the body of the victim, and they all thought the same, but it was John who said it out loud. He was extremely quiet during the way here, and Sam threw a lot of worried glances in his direction, but now he seemed a little bit more alive.

The fact that made all of them rather stunned was that the message became quite obvious. The resemblance was even more definite this time, only that the victim was a man, and not a woman. A man in his forties, who could have been Bailey's brother.

"You were right" told Sam. "He wants more attention, only not in the way you guessed."

"But how can he know?" Bailey's voice didn't waver, but he was apparently strained.

"He's watching me... us... all the time. And he doesn't like the idea that I found you..."

"You both should go back to Atlanta." Suggested John quietly.

"And what?" snapped Bailey. "Let _you _here on your own?!"

John shrugged. He knew his boss and knew when to stop arguing.

"I want this place cleaned as soon as possible. There must be a sign. Any sign. I'm sure he wants to lead us somewhere. Do you agree, Sam?"

"He always wants something. Maybe he only wants to scare me away from you..." she looked somehow distant.

"Sam, can we talk? Alone." Bailey asked in a worried tone.

"Of course."

They walked away and John looked at Grace:

"I guess the hard work is left to us again..." he smiled with not much enthusiasm.

---------------------------

They stood in the safety of a gateway where nobody could see them.

"You don't let him ruin everything, do you?" asked Bailey urgently.

"I don't want to, but..."

"But? I'm an FBI agent, Sam! Don't start with the _I-don't-want-to-endanger-you_! Our job is dangerous anyway and even if we are not together Jack could kill me!" he reasoned passionately.

"I know."

"Then? You're O.K?"

"I guess so."

"You won't think about dropping me because of this bastard?"

Sam smiled at him and Bailey was glad to see the sparkle coming back in her eyes.

"I love you Bailey Malone" she said.

"Yes, you mentioned it before..." and he caressed her waist and pulled her closer.

"Should I stop it?" she asked playfully.

"No way! I can't hear it enough times." He bent closer and kissed her deeply.

"I love you too, by the way" he added when they parted again. And it was true: he had never felt this way before, and he was sure that after so many years he found his real soulmate. He won't let this relationship being destroyed by a madman like Jack.

This time Sam took the lead, and they kissed each other again, absolutely unaware of their surrounding. Until they heard somebody cough discreetly.

They broke away reluctantly and when Bailey looked up, he saw a grinning John.

"Sorry" he told, but he didn't seem to be sorry at all.

"Could you please erase that grin from your face."

"Why should I? I'm just happy to see my masterpiece!" he told, but then his expression graved. "Grace examined the body, and she says that he can't be dead for more than half an hour. I guess we should ask around in the neighbourhood. It's not that early, maybe somebody was already up. From the windows they could have seen something."

"Yes, you are right. We split up, you take the eastern block, I take the western. Sam please, go back to the police department with Grace and contact George. I asked him to do another research, maybe he found some connection between Jack and this damned city."

Sam nodded, and they all went to do their job.

------------------------

It slowly dawned and Bailey had woken up about fifty people so far and most of them weren't too glad about it.

"So, you didn't see anything strange?"

"No. However I was up, you know, I'm not a great sleeper. But I didn't hear or see anything."

"Sorry for the disturbance, and thank you."

When the elderly lady closed the door, Bailey sighed and leant against the wall. The house had an open gangway, just like the building on the opposite side and he could see John there talking to somebody. This was the last flat from where the street could have been seen. He decided to walk down again, and wait for John. Then they could go back to the police station and decide what their next step should be.

The street was still quiet, it was seven in the morning and Saturday, so most people enjoyed the weekend. The body was taken away already but the signs of the crime could still be recognized. He looked around and then glimpsed something.

A van stood at the corner of the street, that he didn't see before. Maybe it doesn't mean anything, but somehow he found it strange. There weren't any stores in this street, and for the residents there was a garage under the building.

He went closer to the vehicle and didn't see the dark figure that emerged from the shadows of the gateway. When he heard the movement it was late. He started to turn, when something hard connected with his shoulder blade. It probably would have hit his head if he hadn't moved. Bailey heard his bone crack and felt a sharp pain. He had no chance to block the second blow that caught him square on the head. He fell to the knees but hasn't lost consciousness yet. He tried to take out his gun, but his movements were slow and his eyesight was blurry. Before the attacker crushed down a third time he thought about Sam, and then he felt a hard blow on his chest and everything went black.

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John always liked questioning people and he knew that he was good at it. Somehow most people found him appealing and opened up quite easily. But sometimes this could be a disadvantage because he had to listen to long stories about family members and strange neighbours.

This time it wasn't different either, he was talking to a middle-aged woman who apparently knew everything of her neighbours and was in the middle of a long story. His thoughts slowly wandered away and he looked down to the street.

He glimpsed a small figure and recognized his boss in it...and then he saw another figure coming from the gateway, and this one had something in his hands that strongly reminded him of a baseball cub.

"Bailey!" he tried to warn the agent, but he was on the eights floor and there was no chance to shout loudly enough. Without another word to the woman he started to run down the stairs taking two at a time.

He arrived on the street, when Jack – it had to be Jack after all! – started to get in the van that stood at the corner. Bailey was nowhere to seen that was a good sign, in a way. If he had killed him, then he would have left the body on the street. John guessed that the murderer put him in the van, hopefully alive. John stopped and shouted:

"FBI! Stop!"

Jack turned and John saw that there was a gun in his right hand. The agent fired without aiming properly and then jumped back. Jack shot but the bullets splintered off the bricks. Then John heard the door of the car slamming and the engine starting. John moved fast, he jumped out of his shelter and this time he aimed. He fired two times and punched both of the rear tyres.

The van ran a few meters but then the driver wasn't able to control it anymore, so the car swerved and after a short struggling it crashed in the container that stood at the end of the alley.

Jack obviously wasn't injured as he immediately jumped out, looked at John, then turned and started to run. John hesitated for a moment – should he look after Bailey, or chase Jack? He knew what Bailey would say, so he started after the murderer.

Jack was already turning in into the next street, but John could still see him. They ran about five hundred meters and Jack tried to get rid of his chaser by making some unexpected bends. They quickly got to a wider street where – despite the early hour – were a few people who slowed down they run. John managed to get closer and closer to Jack and he saw that the murderer looked back at him more and more often. Maybe he began to worry?

However John started to feel a sharp pain in his back - that reminded him of his injury, which he fortunately had forgotten for a while – he sped up even more. The space between them started to decrease radically, and he shouted after Jack to stop. In vain, of course. There were only fifty meters between them, then twenty, ten... and then without hesitation he jumped at Jack, knocking him over.

They were wrestling on the ground, the baseball cap fell from Jack's head and for a second they came face to face. Then Jack punched him at his side, accurately on his healing wound and John fell back. For a long moment he felt that he couldn't breathe. Intense pain burnt in his abdomen and his sight went blurry. _Oh, damn! I can't faint in front of the most feared serial killer... _But he didn't have to worry about this part as Jack jumped up and started to flee again.

John made a vague effort to stand up but he managed only to his knees. He felt still dizzy but he saw clearly now. And watched helplessly as Jack vanished at the next corner. Although he didn't want to give up chasing the murderer, he had no other choice. As hard as he tried his body didn't want to obey and for a few minutes he just kneeled on the ground, panting.

_Bailey... I have to go back to that van... _However they ran past some by-passers before, there was nobody to see right now. _This is just my luck! _He closed his eyes and concentrated on suppressing the pain and when he thought that he wouldn't fall, he struggled to the feet.

He started to walk back - much more slowly this time – and he took out his telephone and called the central.

"District 23. How can I help you?"

"Agent Grant, FBI. I need help at Henderson Street. An agent is injured, send an ambulance and please contact Agent Walters."

"Understand. Help is on the way, Agent Grant."

"Thank you."

Despite the pain in his abdomen and back, he arrived back quite quickly. He opened the back-door of the van, and his heart jumped when he saw the limp figure. He jumped in and checked the pulse. It was strong and seemed stable, but there was a deep wound on Bailey's head and it bled strongly.

"Bailey!" he tried to wake him, but there was no reaction. John sunk to a sitting position and waited.

-----------------------------

Grace had finished the autopsy a few minutes ago and joined Sam in the office, the local police borrowed them. Sam was buried in a huge mound of files.

"Did you speak to George?" she asked when Sam looked up.

"Yes, he didn't find anything new, but is still working on it."

"You are worried."

Sam smiled at her with a sad smile.

"Of course, I'm worried. I feel so helpless... Why is it, that I can forsee other criminals but Jack is still a mystery to me?"

Grace shrugged.

"I'm only the coroner here... but did you ever think about it that you are maybe too involved?"

"Actually, yes. But after what happened to me, I don't think that Bailey could find another profiler for this case."

"You might be right. But I'm sure..."

A knock cut her off mid-sentence, and then one of the detectives tucked in his head.

"I'm sorry Agent Walters, but we got a call from Agent Grant. He asked for help at Henderson Street, according to our dispatcher he said that somebody is injured..."

He couldn't really finish his sentence, because Sam was already on her feet and out of the office. Grace had to jog, if she didn't want to drop behind.

---------------------------

When they arrived some patrols and an ambulance was already there, and Grace saw that the paramedics were working on somebody. She looked at Sam, who was pale as ashes, and she was slightly trembling.

Grace opened the door and wanted to get out of the car, but Sam grabbed her arm. All her desperation was there in that single clench.

"I can't..."

"It's O.K. Sam, I'll go."

She jumped out and rushed to the paramedics' side. She could see that they weren't doing any life-saving interventions, and this was a good sign. Then she glimpsed John, who was leaning against the ambulance, but when he saw her, started to walk in her direction.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"He has a broken bone in his shoulder, and some broken ribs I guess, and a quite ugly wound on his head. He hasn't regained consciousness yet, the paramedics say though that his vitals are satisfactory."

Grace waved at Sam immediately, who – despite of her fears - got out and now was pacing in front of the car throwing worried glances at the scene. She hurried past them with obvious relief and joined the paramedics at Bailey's side. Grace saw tears in her eyes but she clearly tried to stay strong.

Grace herself was also worried for Bailey, even if their boss wasn't desperately wounded, head injuries could be quite dangerous. After a few minutes the paramedics were finished and put the stretcher in the ambulance, Sam joined them as well.

"Where's your car?" turned Grace to John.

"Beyond the corner. But... could you drive, please?"

Grace raised her left eyebrow: John Grant asks her to drive? This was more than strange! But she didn't comment it, when she saw John wincing.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. It's just my wound..."

"Just?" Grace grimaced. "What did you do?"

"I chased after Jack..."

"You are mad. You could have been killed..."

"What should I have done, in your opinion?" John snapped, but then shook his head. "Sorry... It was a long evening. We better get going."

------------------

They joined Sam in the waiting room of the ER. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she seemed years younger. Grace's mother-instinct kicked in immediately and she brought a big mug of coffee.

"Are you all right?" she asked when she came back.

"I think... Tell me he would be O.K."

"He will" John answered. "Jack didn't hurt him badly, he only wanted Bailey unconscious, not dead."

"I don't even want to think about what he wanted to do to him..." Sam whispered.

"But it didn't happen" tried Grace point out the positive side.

"Yes, thank to you" Sam looked up to John who smiled shyly. "Thank you."

"It was nothing, really."

There was at last a slight smile on Sam's face.

"Oh, yes? Then why do you look like a drained lemon?"

"Because he ran seven streets to get Jack" cut in Grace, that earned her a cross look from John.

That was when a doctor came out and asked for them.

"Agent Malone was brought to a room upstairs" the doctor explained. "He regained consciousness. He has a broken rib and some bruised ones. His shoulder was dislocated and he has a concussion. That's why we want to keep him here overnight. But you don't have to worry, he is going to make a full recovery soon."

"Thank you, can he get visitors?"

"Yes, one of you can see him now, but only for a few moments. He got some painkillers and will be drowsy for a while."

Sam looked at the others apologetically.

"Just go" said Grace and John nodded as well and she vanished behind one of the doors.

"I'll go back to the PD" said John.

"You should lie down, maybe even let your check out by a doctor."

"There's no need. The would want a report, and I want to look for a drawer... I saw his face, Grace. Maybe we can identify him at last."

Grace sighed, seeing the stubborn look on his face. She recognized lost fights, so she rather shut up, and decided to join him back to the office.

---------------------

"Well, don't you want to come in, and lie down on my couch?"

John looked at her with a frown. They were in Sam's office, three days went by since their incident with Jack and this was their first appointment. John has just arrived and was standing now in the door as if he didn't want to come in.

Though they should have been relieved, John was visibly tensed. Bailey was all right, they had a quite good description of Jack that was divulged all over the country and they hoped that they could at last identify him.

"You are insufferable, do you know that?" said John in a gruff voice.

"Yes!" And she smiled innocently. John just sighed, and Sam continued seriously. "So, do you tell me what your dream was about?"

"Would you quit if I didn't?"

"I don't think so. This isn't my sick curiosity, John! I'm worried about you, and I know from experience that it's better if we talk..."

John at last sat down, although he chose the farthest chair in the room. He looked at his hands and started to talk.

"I dream about the night my mother died. In my dream I'm lying on the ground and I hear my parents shouting...then my father rushes away and my mother... she starts pacing in the house... she takes some pills and drinks from a bottle... Then I hear the front door and then I hear her open the garage and the engine starting. I want to shout after her, stopping her somehow ... but I can't move, I can't stand up to stop her..." His voice was even, too even, for Sam's liking and he spoke quickly. She knew that he was still wearing his mask.

"People often dream such things. It's because we feel that we were helpless when our loved one died..."

John shook his head but still didn't look up from his hands.

"No, this is different. It's not just a dream... I should have stopped her. She drank and took some tranquillizer, she wasn't in the state to drive."

"She died in a car accident?"

"Yes. She lost control over the car and ran from the road. The doctor said she died immediately."

"So, it really happened this way? Your parents were arguing, than your mother ran away and had a car accident?"

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

"14."

"And were you at home?"

"Yes."

"And where were you? Did you see them?"

"I told you, I was lying on the floor in the living room..."

"But why...?" Sam was confused, she thought this "lying and being not able to move" was just a symbol of the helplessness of a child.

"What why?" He looked up at her and now he seemed just as confused as Sam felt herself.

"Why were you lying on the floor?"

"Oh... because I had a concussion and a broken leg..." his voice sounded more bitter than Sam has ever heard from him. "Thanks to my father."

"Oh, my god..." Sam exclaimed involuntary. _So this was it. How could she overlook it? And his mother left him there, when he needed help? When her son was injured? _In Sam's opinion she wasn't much better than the father who beat his son up.

"Don't look at me like this" John whispered.

"How?"

"Pityingly. That's why I never talk about it! Nobody can change it, they never could... and then they just look at me with those sympathetic eyes as if they would understand... but they don't. They don't even see the problem!"

Sam was glad to hear some emotion in his voice even if he was still rather low-key. He should shout...

"Why, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I didn't stop her! It was my responsibility!"

"John, you were a child! In my opinion, she should have stayed there with you, call the ambulance..."

"No! She was ill! I should have protected her!"

Sam thought that for this topic they relationship was not strong enough, so she changed the subject.

"How long did you lie there?"

John took a deep breath to calm himself and seemed a little bit relieved.

"I don't really know, but after a while my father came back and took me to a doctor... not to the hospital, of course. There was an out-law doctor in town who helped the mob... He plastered my leg... and then the next morning some police officers came and told us what happened to my mother."

"Let's talk about your father, a little bit."

John frowned again and looked at the watch.

"How long is a sitting usually?" he asked pointedly.

"Due to the protocol it has to be at least 60 minutes before I can write an expertise."

"But you will declare me competent?"

Sam looked at him for a while and then nodded.

"Then couldn't we just stop here?"

"John, I really think that you need a consultant!" reasoned Sam. "People who were abused in their childhood can control their emotions better if they go through a therapy."

"I studied psychology too at the Academy, Sam. Maybe I'm not an expert but this much I know... or at least that they say so. I'm fine. Do you really think that I can't control my emotions?"

"Actually, I think you control them too well!"

"Look, my life wasn't a fairy tale. My father beat me up quite often, my mother was broken by him and then she died. You can sum it up in one sentence, why should we talk about it for more hours? I have to live together with my memories, which, by the way, don't bother me as much as you seem to think! Yes, I feel guilty because of the death of my mother, and this won't change either, because nobody could ever convince me that it wasn't my fault!" the last sentence was almost shouted, and for a few moments Sam just sat there and looked at him.

"All right! I won't push you, anymore, I promise." She said at last.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for shouting at you" he calmed down quickly.

"Never mind. We are still friends, right?"

"Of course."

"Then promise me one thing: if you feel like talking you will come to me. You won't hide and suppress everything."

"O.K. I promise. Just don't pity me!"

"I won't."

"Then we have a deal, I guess."

He smiled at her slightly and Sam felt that this whole discussion was still not absolutely useless, after all.

AN2: This episode is over, but I've already started the next one! So, see you soon!


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